Dealing with a Wait Problem

I’m seated in my car. There is another vehicle in front of mine, a Toyota Corolla with a small dent just below the left tail light. The word Corolla on the back of the other car reminds me of corona, which is the fuzzy glow around the edge of the sun. I’m pretty sure it’s also a brand of beer. There’s a Corona Park in Queens, New York, not to be confused with Crotona Park, which is in the Bronx. From there, I think of cruller, a word I learned when I worked as a baker at a doughnut shop immediately after high school graduation. I was seventeen. If I owned a doughnut franchise, would I ever hire a seventeen-year-old and place my entire business into his clumsy hands? Also, did I really go to work at five in the morning for a dollar-sixty an hour? Cruller doesn’t sound like a kind of cake. It sounds like something you dig up out of the ground, and then go around showing it to people and asking them what they think it is. The dent is high and circular, about the size of a golf ball. It doesn’t appear to be the result of a minor accident or a bump in a parking lot. Based on its shape and location, I’d guess that a short knight riding a pony in a jousting match may have rammed the Corolla with his lance. Or maybe the driver lives near a golf course. A bumper sticker just below the dent says Vote No on Plan B. If I’d had a Plan B, I’d have made a right turn out of the post office and gone around the block the other way, and I’d be home by now.

I have time to think about these things, because I’m waiting to make a left turn. The light is green, but there’s traffic coming from the opposite direction. Rather than proceed into the intersection, the driver in front of me holds back and maintains his red light position. He doesn’t budge an inch, and so neither can anyone else. I believe I was behind this same man at the bank last Tuesday afternoon. That day there were thirteen people ahead of me, and once I joined the group, no one else did, so I was always at the end of the line. For a long time I made no progress, and had resorted to shifting my weight from one foot to the other and counting the letters on the mortgage rate poster, even though three or four customers finished what they were doing and departed. The man didn’t move up when he was supposed to. He let an unnatural gap form between him and the next person in line, so that there was no intermittent release of the tension that builds when you’re trapped, motionless, and watching the clock on the wall as it ticks away at your mortality. I was going to tap him on the shoulder and ask him if he was all right. Maybe he’d slipped into a shopping mall trance, a syndrome I was familiar with. The symptoms consist of an irresistible urge to flee the premises, accompanied by a curious inability to move a muscle. I had plenty of opportunity to inquire about his condition. The elderly lady now at the front of the line was paying her electric bill with a bagful of unrolled dimes. But I was sure he’d step forward at any moment, and I didn’t want to risk getting into a conversation with him. The last time I did that, at the veterinarian’s office, I was sucked into a half-hour lecture on both the advantages and the hardships of living in Winnipeg, Manitoba. After the clock had swept away another slice of our existence, the man approached the teller window, completed his transaction, and left. And so did I.

The incident at the bank was almost forgotten, but now the memory of it has returned as I sit behind the Toyota Corolla and wonder if this is where I’m going to spend the rest of my life. There is no wall and no clock, but clouds have arrived from the distant horizon, and the blue sky everyone at the post office had marveled about has transformed into a dull gray. Off to the left, a young woman in a bright yellow vest stands in the road clutching a sign that says Slow. Obedient drivers file past her at a quarter of the speed limit, and I find myself wishing to be moving that slowly. I imagine her still standing there in the winter, her sign shaking in her frozen hand, my car and the Corolla covered with a thin layer of fresh snow. Across the street in the other direction, construction workers are busy erecting a single-family residence. Eventually, I’ll watch the new owners as they unload their rental truck, plant trees in the front yard, maybe get a dog, and raise their children. The traffic light will change – green, yellow, red, and back again – through thousands of cycles. The Corolla’s left turn signal will burn out and stop blinking, its driver considering the possibility of removing his foot from the brake pedal, but always regaining his senses at the last moment. Meanwhile in the car behind him, long out of gas and needing to trim my beard, I’ll begin contriving some sort of weapon out of plastic fast-food cutlery and twisted road maps. My plan will include hijacking his car, running the red light, and parking in the driveway of the now abandoned house across the street. I’ll leave my own rusted vehicle at the old post office building, which has been converted into a doughnut shop. I may go in and see if they need a baker, one who is mature and patient and knows how to make a left turn at a traffic light. But first, I have to get to the bank. My electric bill is way overdue.

Only you would find a blood pressure LOWERING way to deal with a Toyota driver who doesn’t know where the gas pedal is. But if more people could just wait as patiently as you did, the world would be much better off. Especially the Toyota driver. Until he dies of old age in that lane, that is.

The problem occurs only at those traffic lights that don’t have a green arrow for left turns, and at intersections where there’s always traffic coming the other way. If you’re not at least slightly aggressive, you could wait forever.

If you lived down here, you’d recognize that wait at the intersection for what it is: training for the DMV. Another few intersections, a couple more bank lines, and you’ll be ready to renew your driver’s license in person. And if you want to conduct an even more interesting social experiment, try what I do now and then: tell the person behind you in the grocery store express lane to go ahead, that you have plenty of time. It can be a remarkable experience.

I do that all the time at the grocery store, especially if the person has just a couple of items. Most take me up on the offer, but a few explain that they aren’t in a hurry either. I’ll usually insist that they go ahead, which often leads to a heated argument about which of us has more time. Before you know it, we’re throwing cans of soup at each other. My mother used to say, “It doesn’t pay to be nice.”

Isn’t it amazing where your mind goes in such a short time? It’s like traveling to other parts of the solar system and back, only with more random thoughts. Although, with the way your mind works, it could be pretty random, too. “Oh there’s Mars. They make good candy bars. I’m getting pretty hungry. Look at Mercury. I wonder it they still use that in thermometers. Pluto is cool, but how come Goofy wears clothes and talks, and Pluto acts like a dog?”
😉

I keep trying to pay attention to what my thoughts look and sound like. Do I think in complete sentences, or even words? I’m not sure. I think they’re more like flashes that have ideas inside of them, which I translate into words if necessary. Do you know what I mean?

I’m pretty sure I’ve been behind that same Corolla a few times myself! Your cartoons are perfect…do you make them yourself? Once again, a wonderful read! Thanks for the reminder that we’re all in this together 🙂

I don’t draw the actual artwork for the cartoons. That’s done by a man named Ron Leishman. I subscribe to his clip-art website. That allows me to download, modify, and combine his drawings into cartoons, and add dialogue and captions, too.

Whenever I begin to get frustrated behind someone, I remind myself it could be me in a few years. Hopefully I’ll be more aware of others around me … And then my mind continues on its track …. about aging, old family members, illness and death …. and usually that gets things moving ahead of me.
Great post Charlie!
Val x

I always try to think that way, too, Val. Maybe the person isn’t feeling well, or they’re a new driver, or there’s a problem with the car. But after forty years on the road, I’ve come to the conclusion that a lot of people are either unaware of how dangerous their vehicle is, or they’re so aware that it makes them hesitant. Both kinds of drivers are unpredictable and dangerous.

The old hurry-up-and-wait gig. Since I’m now retired, I don’t care. I might be the one in front of you holding up the line because I’m daydreaming about how many people will be at my book signing party. When I publish a book. After I finish editing the book. Oh, and after I write it.

I don’t think the person in the other car is daydreaming. It seems that a lot of people were taught to drive that way — you sit back at the green light until you can make the turn. My father taught me to pull up into the middle of the intersection, so that even if the light turns yellow and then red, I can still make the turn.

I know you Canadians are polite, but why didn’t you HONK? that’s always my rude, go-to strategy in a similar situation, followed by a tsunami of guilt when I see the person I’m honking at is about 85 years old and terrified behind the wheel.

I almost never honk. Anyway, it isn’t that the person is unaware that the light is green. It’s that they were taught not to enter the intersection until they can actually make the turn. What’s your technique?

Do you think it’s possible to develop Attention Deficit Disorder as a “mature” adult? I don’t remember my mind wandering this much when I was younger, so why now? And do you ever get to the end of one of these wandering thought streams and then try to work your way back–to try to figure out what made you think of those crullers from years ago–and get hopelessly lost in the dark, dusty, winding corridors of the cerebral cortex? And then realize that YOU are now the person holding up the line? Or is it just me?

Good heavens! You have Toyota Corollas there too? I swear that since 1978, they are all driven by people who don’t know how to drive. But I like that we get another slice of living inside Charles head out of it 🙂 xoxo

Tsk, tsk. Thou shalt not stereotype Corolla drivers. I’ve had four. The first was murdered on a Houston freeway, the second was t-boned in my parking lot by a drunk at 2 a.m., and I finally sold the third after it passed 350K miles. My new one is friskier than the rest, and we get along just fine. I’ll bet that Corolla Charles was stuck behind was muttering to itself, too. 🙂

Now I’m imagining the cars at the dealership keeping their headlights down and quietly hoping that certain prospective customers choose another vehicle — something like the audience members seated in the front row at a stand-up comedy show.

Ah, you haven’t realized you’re one of us, have you? We, the most powerful beings in the universe, able to paralyze the person in line in front of us, able to make it rain by washing the car, able to make sports teams lose by merely watching. Once we figure out who we are and get together, watch out, world! Snooz-a-rama!

I cannot believe he left a gap in line! Doesn’t he realize it’s an unwritten rule that we all move up slightly when someone else does?

This entire post made me laugh, good stuff, Charles. If I ever want time to slow down to a crawl so I can contemplate the meaning of life, all I have to do is engage in a conversation with my 7 year old and wait for her to make a point: “Umm…so the other day….um….there was this girl, no it was a boy, no it was a dog. Anyway….um…so the other day I saw this dog….and it was brown….no I think it was black…ummm…..”

I know that feeling – the only thing I would add is how it feels like all my blood is rushing to my head, my ears are throbbing, my jaw hurts and my brain seems to expand and is about to burst through my skull. I have no patience. 🙂
Diana xo

I was 5th in line at a stop light. The light turned. We did not go forward. We sat there through another light cycle. Still no forward motion. So those brave drivers ahead of me started pulling around the front driver. When my time came, my granddaughter took a gawk at the first in line driver. It was an elderly woman slumped over the steering wheel. I felt so bad for all the evil thoughts I had been sending forward up to that point. After we got through the intersection we met a police car approaching with lights flashing. Some good person had called in about the situation.

When I get behind a slow driver or more importantly when my impatient husband gets behind one, I keep repeating, “Just be glad he is driving in his safe zone and not beyond his comfort zone.” I shouldn’t talk – I’m getting there myself!

I’m trying very hard to learn to be more patient while I wait. I get lots of practice waiting for my mom. She can’t help it, but she gets distracted by so much while I’m waiting to take her somewhere. When I go to her apartment, I have to see all of her clothes again before we leave. She introduces me to each blouse, skirt, pants, and dress. I wish I could stop the churning in my stomach during those moments, but outwardly I think I look calm.

I’ve become very old, and approximately 10 times used the horn. Until 6 months ago that was the case but had to bump it 5 or so times so far.
Traffic circles arrived and about once every two weeks I notice broken glass and random car parts in the circle. Here’s a thought – if you are in the circle step on the gas, if your are near the circle, don’t hit the person stepping on the gas. Slip right in behind them if there’s safely space, “it’s a yield sign, and there’s no one near or in the circle- why did you stop?”

I’ve now resigned to my fate. Any line I join ends up being the slowest. The moment I shift to another line, the original one moves faster. Or the machine at the end will stop working just when it’s my turn.

The most used sentence whenever He-Who is driving and I am trapped in the passenger side…”Move into the intersection! Move into the intersection! Move into the damned intersection!”. Of course he was born and raised in Winnipeg, Manitoba which, according to him is the “Centre of the Universe”. Apparently the only hardship he has to overcome is the lack of driving etiquette.

Definitely one of my favorites! I needed you in the market last week, as I stood behind the people who parked their carts in the center of the aisles, then stood, slack-mouthed, to parse the price of peas. 😉

They’re the same people who walk through the front doors of a large store and then stop right there to look around for a while. Another odd behavior I’ve noticed lately is when someone unloads their groceries at the cash register and leaves the empty shopping cart, so that the person behind them has to deal with it.

That left turn timidity is my biggest pet peeve–I’ve been known to lean out the window and shout, which is counter-productive, adding yet more fear to the equation. As for the enter and pause in businesses thing, I regularly embarrass my wife and kids by directing traffic–I’m an NFL lineman-sized guy and don’t hesitate to speak up: “let’s go,” or my favorite, “chop, chop!” I collect dirty looks like some folks collect sea shells. The older I get, the less effective my filters–well on the way to being a grumpy old man.

I read this and felt like I was in the mind of Douglas Adams’ Dirk Gently. This was so funny! I’m feeling inspired to pay attention to my inner monologue next time I’m waiting for something, I never knew it could be so interesting.

Reblogged this on "Raindrops on Roses" and commented:
This is pretty spot on. I find myself thinking abstract thoughts while impatiently waiting in my everyday life; from depositing a check at the bank to standing in the impossibly long line at Subway.

Hi Charles! I’m relatively new to WordPress and still have an amateur blog and am looking to communicate my posts to a larger audience. As a college student, most of my posts revolve around my interests; travel, art, graphics, rhetoric, gender equality etc. I’m impressed by the breadth of your blog and also your dry humor that’s consistent in many of your posts.

What advice would you give to a new blogger to get my message out there? Any and all advice is welcome!